


Live In You

by Blue23Lace



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Angst, Attempted Murder, First Love, Gentle Kissing, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, M/M, Master/Servant, Princes & Princesses, Rough Kissing, Servants, Treachery, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:54:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28550445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue23Lace/pseuds/Blue23Lace
Summary: “I don’t understand why you’re lying to yourself, Hisoka, because I know you will always need me in your life, the way I need you in mine. But if you’re so stubborn as to make me believe you don’t, then you’re free to leave. Leave me and don’t ever come back.”
Relationships: Hisoka & Illumi Zoldyck, Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck
Comments: 21
Kudos: 39





	1. The Ace

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone can always cherish and treasure the bond they have with their loved ones. 
> 
> #LoveIsLove

For the last two years, Hisoka lived as whatever he wanted. He was a lumberjack, a sailor, a gambler, a cleaner, a charcoal shipper, a gardener, a salt maker, a blacksmith, a busker, a florist, a dish-washer, and all other job you could find in Southern Kukuroo. The land was ruled by King Silva Zoldyck and Queen Kikyo Zoldyck, with their beautiful five Zoldyck children that everyone would call The Royal Five. The King was one of the most renowned rulers in the entire Southern land. His glory was known to countries across, and his dexterity in leading the war was undoubtable. He was adored and respected by his people because he had brought hundreds of victories to the Southern Kingdom, especially when the land became more prosperous after he took over the throne. There was less poverty, more clean water, and more trades in the village market. Which meant more jobs for Hisoka to try. Everybody knew him because he had worked for everyone in the village, and his skills could only grow sharper and more adept as time flew. People called him The Ace. 

However, no matter how much of an Ace he was, his life was below moderate. He was met with thousands of uncertainties every single day, from not knowing where to sleep or whether he could afford today’s dinner, but he very much enjoyed the mess. That’s what keeps me going; if you already know what’s next, what’s the point in living? He said to an old lady when he was helping her sell Dried Momiji. She would just scoff at his words, but did not care to bother more. That kid sold a fine amount of Momiji, she would say. 

Other than labor work, he also employed himself in the Love Chamber. It was a prostitution nest. People, no matter the age, would go there and satisfy themselves with varying options. Hisoka was one of those options. When he worked in Love Chamber, he would get a handsome part of money because he was admired by endless quantity of women who went crazy over his service. Not only sex but he also provided them warmth and genuine pleasure, and husbands in the entire village were jealous of him because of that. A woman asked him if he wanted to be a permanent worker in Love Chamber, to which he replied, Our world is a lot bigger than your boobs and my dick, Darling; and with that, he would leave the chamber indifferently as he continued his journey working in other jobs the next day. 

However, he wouldn’t be The Ace who lived a crazy, nomadic life if the day in the Textile Warehouse never happened.

********* 

Two years ago, before his life was in disarray, there was a period of time where he used to assist Hanjo, a frail man in his mid fifties, with all the lovely Kanjiri; the Kukuroo traditional summer clothes, as well as some winter coats to be made in the warehouse. He worked there for as long as he could remember, helping Hanjo with the design, the texture, the quality of the fabric, and the shipping to every boutiques spread in the corners of the village. He very much enjoyed the job, seeing the collaboration of the yarn and the cloth and the needle and the wooden tool creating something as intricate and as beautiful as Kanjiri. He would wear different Kanjiri everyday, the Kanjiri whose motifs were created by himself, and Hanjo would proudly pat him on his back, saying how full of ideas of a young man he was. Hisoka was also proud of his natural talents, and his ideas kept surprising the customers, even himself, as he came up with new textures everyday. 

Customers, however, liked to visit the warehouse to order a custom Kanjiri and watch the interesting process of making the fabric. Children came and went, and Hanjo had to scold them away not to mess with his threads. Hisoka did not care much about the nuisances because he had to focus on the tailoring, and so he didn’t even glance when he had to serve customers with their orders. That’s a beautiful orchid, a customer said when Hisoka was concentrating on his fabric. A beautiful orchid it is, Hisoka replied automatically, as if he was programmed to answer basic questions or compliments without neglecting his work, when the customer walked closer and said, I want one. 

Hisoka had to put down his tools, cleaned his hands and his pants, before he stood up and named the price. But no, Hisoka never named any price, because his entire body froze when he had to lock his gaze with the customer. The customer was wearing a long shabby, filthy cloak and a hood that covered the head, but he could see those eyes clearly; eyes with a gaze colder than winter, deeper than the Southern Ocean, and darker than all midnights during Twilight. A face so beautifully sculpted he wasn’t sure whether the customer was a man or a woman, that person might even be an Angel, and Hisoka had to blink twice before saying, That would be forty Jenny. Where do you live? I live here, the customer said. You mean here in the village? Yes. What do you do in the village? And by that, the customer smiled and said, I am anything I want to be.

And that was it. That was the first and the last time he had ever met the Angel. He waited days after days in the warehouse, working restlessly and constantly looking at the door, hoping to see a faint sign of the Angel’s sudden presence; but nothing happened. He had to ask all of his loyal customers, asking them if they had seen a person with an appearance of the Angel’s feature, but he was always disappointed with their answers. Nobody in the village looked like that, they would say; and he thought he was crazy, thinking that perhaps the Angel was only made up in his mind, that their encounter never happened. 

A week later, he had to say goodbye to Hanjo and left the warehouse and all its memories; and although Hanjo did not cry, his face looked swollen as he asked, Where are you going, Son? Finding my Angel, Hisoka would say; and with a small sac made of Kanjiri cloth on his back, some boiled shrimps and a bottle of water, he began his nomadic journey, working endlessly from place to place; because the warehouse kept reminding him of the Angel, and since no one claimed ever seeing the Angel, it was his only choice that he had to keep moving and find the Angel himself. _I am anything I want to be_ , he would repeat those ambiguous words in the back of his head and make them happen in his real life. 

Of course, it was only God and himself who knew the real reason why he lived such a chaotic life. It was useless of him to tell them about the Angel, so he had to make up stories and excuses for them to believe him. One year after, he started to forget why he kept moving around; he was so used to the rhythm that he did not realize he was a lunatic, that he could have had a better life if it wasn’t because of some futile search of an Angel that didn’t even exist. On some warmer days, he would work in the fish market, probably the stinkiest place in the entire village; and at night, only sheltered by a piece of flimsy cardboard, he would suddenly wake up from his sleep, only to find himself flooded by his own sweat while gripping tightly at his cock. The other workers would just laugh at him and the wet mat underneath, saying, If you’re that desperate, dear fella, there’s a place you need by the end of this street; and that’s how he ended up working in Love Chamber as a prostitute, as well as a lumberjack, a sailor, a charcoal shipper, a gardener, a cleaner, and all other different jobs you could possibly find in Kukuroo Village. 

*********

If Hisoka had to think about it, his nomadic days weren’t all so chaotic. He got more time for himself now, the time he didn’t have while he was still working for Hanjo; to explore the village and embracing his freedom as a true Kukuroo villager. In the second year, he claimed that he already knew all the hidden corners in the village, saying, I know this village more than I know myself. There were also days where he spent more time in the center of the village, and when they were lucky, they would get to see the horse convoy from the palace passing by. Not necessarily _see_ the convoy, because when it happened, everyone had to stop their activity and bow down to honor the royal family, and nobody was allowed to lift their head to see the family with their bare eyes. Hisoka didn’t know why the kingdom had to be all secretive about it, but nonetheless, he had been living his twenty-five years of life as Kukuroo villager from the Southern Land, and never in his life saw the face of his King, or Queen, or the Royal Five as everybody called it. So far as he could see was the feet of the horses thumping on the ground of the village, and after the convoy had passed through, everybody would stand up and continue with their activity. And speaking of the palace, he also heard that they were recruiting new employees to work inside the complex, but he never took the chance since he still had to do his search. 

On some colder days, he would employ himself as a farmer, helping with all the thatches to be carried to the cart and to be fed to the goats and the horses. He would spend hours and hours in the paddy field, or in the chicken’s shed, or in the well where he had to pull endless buckets of water for the pigs and the dogs. He liked to play with those animals, thinking how happy it was to be them that they had not a single care about this world. Did you see your friends today? He would ask Troy, his favorite brown horse in the stable. Yes, your friends who passed through our village this morning. Are you jealous because they have a better life than you? Troy would just snuffle, asking for more thatches. No, Troy, I can’t work in the palace. You know I have to find my Angel here in the village. But it’s been two years now and I am yet to see light. What do you think, Troy? Should I just give up and start a new life? 

And so with that, he dropped everything he had, forgot everything he knew, and only with a piece of sac and a chunk of bread, he left for the palace and joined the recruitment. 

*********

If Hisoka had to mention one thing he wouldn’t imagine happening in his life, it was to step his feet in the palace’s complex and work there. Never in his life thought about the idea, because working for the royal family meant you had to dedicate your whole life for the Kingdom; and such a pity for a life to be spent and wasted solely for one purpose. Besides, the palace wouldn’t just easily employ or fire people; all the workers were highly trusted, reliable and selected few. He got to the palace’s front gate, and a slim man in his dark blue Kanjiri, which was the royal guard’s uniform, asked Hisoka to follow him. When they sat down inside the front station, the man took out a huge paper, studied it for a while, looked at Hisoka and began the interview. 

“Your name?” He asked. 

“Hisoka, sir. Hisoka The Ace.” 

“Is that your real name?” 

“No, sir, it’s Hisoka Morow.” 

When the guard asked what Hisoka did in his previous job, he had to spend his next twenty minutes explaining all the work he did in Kukuroo Village. How come you worked so many jobs? The guard asked. And Hisoka only smiled. The guard looked at his paper again, and back to Hisoka. And to the paper. And to Hisoka. Please wait, the guard said, and he disappeared behind the station’s door. 

Hisoka thought he was rotting before the slim guard finally reappeared after almost half an hour. Sorry for taking so long, he said. He announced that Hisoka got accepted into the job, and Hisoka wasn’t that surprised because he thought it was due to his endless job experience. The guard told him that he would be placed in the inner complex as the Prince’s private servant. Which prince? Prince Illumi Zoldyck, the guard replied. Oh, if Hisoka was not mistaken, Prince Illumi was the first child of the Royal Five. Yes, he was sure now. He remembered because the King’s five children were named in order: IlluMilluKilluAlluKalluto, and kids in the village would brag themselves and compete with their friends as to who could pronounce the acronym faster. He handed Hisoka a new set of Kanjiri, with its light creme color and silver lines along its edge, and although Hisoka had worked for years making Kanjiri, he had never seen something as exquisite as that one. The guard asked Hisoka to follow him inside the palace, and as he walked further into the complex, it was his first time witnessing the beauty of the palace’s traditional architecture; the constructions were full of golden ornaments that spoke nothing else but the Kukuroo’s rich culture. He tried to remember the time when he had to work as a blacksmith, but the stones weren’t as sleek as the one beneath his feet right now, and as he walked along the outdoor track of the palace, he didn’t miss the small marble fountains that decorated every corner of the orchid bushes. 

After walking for distance all the way from the palace’s front gate, they finally arrived at what seemed like a chamber, and Hisoka waited outside as the guard excused himself and disappeared behind the chamber’s wooden door. He could hear the guard was having a conversation with someone. The voice was incredibly faint, but his heart started to beat so fast he thought it was going to pop out of his chest; even more so after he heard the voice saying, Thank you, Gotoh, you may leave, which was followed by the slim guard who came out the door five seconds after. A moment later, he heard the same voice saying, You may come in; and as his mind was still processing how the voice could be so familiar to his ears, he slid the door open and entered the chamber; and it was right then and there that he wished he was never born.

********* 


	2. The Grieving Orchid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter of the three, so I hope you can make yourself comfortable reading it... Enjoy :)

For the first critical moment, he couldn’t process which was frightening him more: the fact that he had met the Angel again out of nowhere, or the fact that the Angel was a prince. _The_ Prince; Prince Illumi Zoldyck of the Southern Kingdom; son of King Silva, descent of the Great Emperor Zeno Zoldyck. The Prince looked slightly different from the last time he remembered, due to the drastic change of his appearance; he was now dressed in a beautiful green Kanjiri, with golden embroideries adorning its back and its edges. The Prince was sitting in the low mirror with his legs crossed, combing his hair; a hair so black, so thick and so long that it reached the lower part of his hips, and Hisoka did not dare examine everything too long that he quickly placed himself behind the Prince and joined him on the floor. 

However, when Hisoka looked at the Prince from the mirror’s reflection, he was met with the very same eyes; eyes with a gaze colder than winter, deeper than the Southern Ocean, and darker than all midnights during Twilight; his face was so white and so bright that it illuminated every single light casted upon his features, and it was only one second after that Hisoka immediately looked away from the mirror and kept his head down.

For a moment, the Prince just sat there saying nothing, as if Hisoka wasn’t right behind him and wasn’t already having seizures, and before the silence started to get unbearable, the Prince finally placed his comb on the drawer and said, I suppose you are my Private Servant? Hisoka wanted to choke his own throat. _I suppose you are my Private Servant?_ My Angel; did you know we met two years ago in the warehouse, and you had asked me about the beautiful Orchid? Did you know your face has been implanted in my core as you disappeared without a trace? Did you know I have been living a crazy life, naming myself a lunatic nomad, marking every single corner in the village, working and moving from places to places, just to find you? Did you know I had a dream about you every night and prayed for your soul? And did you know I finally gave up and wanted to learn to forget you? If you know, My Angel, then why did you have to come back into my life just to be someone I can’t have? 

No, Hisoka didn’t say all those things. He never had the heart to. He just nodded his head, and as the Prince dismissed him and continued combing, he left the chamber and prayed that he would jump off a cliff and vanish from this world. 

********* 

There was no way the Prince would know his feelings. So long as he kept the secret within himself, there was no way a single soul would know. 

Working a hundred different jobs in the past made him adapt easily and learn things quickly, and so even though there were still things he was getting used to, it didn’t take long for him to understand how things worked in the palace. By the third day of his employment, he knew enough of the palace’s layout, as the complex consisted of three areas: Left Wing, Central Area, and the Right Wing. Left Wing was all about the general; there was the Kitchen Chamber, storage room, horse stable, and Servant Chamber. The Central Area was all about the formal needs and gatherings; consisted of the Throne Room, Assembly Chamber, the Porch, and the Main Hall. Right Wing consisted of seven chambers—all of them being the Resting Chambers of each of the royal family members, including the one Prince Illumi had where Hisoka had been there three days ago—and one huge bathroom with an addition of Onsen and Sauna inside.

Precisely behind every Resting Chambers were tiny wards, which were the place for the private servants to sleep at night. Hisoka asked Gotoh why servants had to sleep in the wards instead of the Servant Chamber, and he said because they never knew what threats would endanger their majesties while they were not around. And what is the Servant Chamber for? Hisoka asked, and Gotoh would just walk away without so much as glancing at him. There was also a river and a grass field right behind the complex, and people somehow still considered it as a part of the King’s property even though it was not located inside the palace. 

When morning broke and the sun ray glistened upon the palace’s beautiful infrastructure, he had to rush himself from the Left Wing, all the way to Right Wing, to deliver breakfasts for the Prince. With a wooden platter on his trembling hands, there were different kinds of dish on top of it everyday: Prawn Soup with Boiled Egg, Raw Salmon, or Baked Tuna, sometimes Steamed Bread with Ginseng Root, Haricot Porridge, Dried Momiji with an orange dip he wasn’t sure what it was. He hadn’t tried most of them, but he didn’t have time to think about it as his mind was always occupied with the Prince. Hisoka never dared to see that face, that same face he had to deal with everyday; so whenever he was in the Prince’s presence, he would immediately lower his gaze, like those times where he would bow down with all the villages when the Prince passed by on horse convoy, and he prayed to God that the Prince didn’t hear the explosion in his chest or the turmoil in his head. 

Other than mornings, evening was when he had to deliver Sogi to the Prince’s chamber, though not everyday. Sogi was a kind of spring roll, made of several herbal plants, ham, gelatin, and nuts; and due to its rarity, only the people from the palace could consume it and make it as regular evening snacks. One breezy evening, he had to rush to the Left Wing to take Sogi from the Kitchen Chamber, and on the way he had walked past one of the Royal Five’s private servants who greeted him. It was so breezy that day, and he had to constantly refold his bottom Kanjiri because the wind kept blowing it open. With his hair and cloth all over the place, he finally arrived at the kitchen, took the wooden platter with the Sogi on top, and fought his way back to the Prince’s chamber. Unluckiness had to strike him that day, because when he was struggling with balancing the platter, his Kanjiri flew up to his face and blocked his view, and a second a later he got tripped by a stone, and not only his Kanjiri now, but it was also the Sogi who was flying, and fell dramatically on the bearish ground. He had been a wonderful, professional worker in a lot of different jobs in the past, and he felt so stupid now because he couldn’t even hold a platter properly. The Prince was surely already waiting; so he cleaned the mess, and threw the wasted Sogi to the nearby bush where he was standing. Cuckoo birds were flying and hovering on top of it, and as Hisoka returned to the kitchen to get a new one, the birds happily ate their free snacks that day. 

Three days later, Hisoka walked past the same bush and found the Cuckoos were dead.

*********

Of all the endless works he had to do, the most tormenting part was when he had to prepare the Prince’s outfit. Each day was a new day for different outfits to be worn, and when the Prince was out bathing, he would take his time in the Prince’s chamber, taking the garments out from the drawer and feeling the fabric on his hands. It reminded him of the warehouse, of Hanjo, of the Kanjiri he made, and of the Prince whom he first saw two years ago. He would caress the garment’s surface, and _oh_ how he was jealous of the fabric for they got to taste the Prince’s skin; he would sniff at the garments and he was hard, hard with anxiety and fear that the Prince might find him out, might know his sins, and so he would put the clothes back in the drawer right away while shushing his hormones and collapsed on the floor. However, no matter how often he sneaked his hands into the drawer and excused himself for tidying the clothes, never for once he found where the Prince had kept the particular Orchid Kanjiri, and never he saw him wearing it since the first day he worked in the palace. 

Prince Illumi had a Kukuroonese Literature Study on Tuesday. Wearing his luxurious yellow Kanjiri, the Prince would tell Hisoka to carry all those heavy books, and they would walk all the way to the Assembly Room in the Central Area. Hisoka’s hands weren’t shaky when they arrived, thanks to his former days delivering loaded charcoals, and when the door was opened, that was his first time to actually witness the Royal Five gathering altogether in the same place at the same time. 

When he entered the room, at first there wasn’t anyone but Princess Alluka, the fourth child, with a dark-skinned private servant tidying her books on the table. The Princess looked exceptionally happy when she saw Prince Illumi, and Hisoka could swear in the name of all Southern Deities that he saw the Prince’s gaze softened for the first time since he met him in the warehouse. And the Prince was smiling, a faint smile that made Hisoka feel guilty and turn away immediately. The two siblings were talking about dinner, about Kanjiri, about the upcoming Tea Banquet, about the nightingale, and _oh_ what a ball of joy she was; making everyone fall in love with her raw excitement, and he bet the Prince would say yes to anything she was saying. Even the Princess treated her private servant like a friend, as if the gap never existed, and although the servant had a fairly dark skin, her cheek would blush its red hue whenever the Princess complimented her company.

Then came Prince Killua, with his jet black hair that shone brighter than the burning charcoals, his piercing blue eyes and pale skin, and Princess Alluka would jump to him, the way a cub would jump to its mother, and Prince Illumi had to sigh before saying, How pity of me, do be dumped by my own sister. Hisoka didn’t know the Prince had a sense of humor, and when Princess Alluka pulled herself away from Prince Killua’s arms, the latter finally greeted his oldest brother, short and warm, cordial and respectful, and they would exchange knowing glances that held a thousand words behind it; a conversation that Hisoka was not a part of, not even Princess Alluka, nor the two humbled servants in the corner. A moment later came Princess Kalluto, with her elegant Kanjiri and a paper fan on one hand, and although she was the youngest of the five, her poise and graceful gait was already visible that Hisoka admitted she would make a fine Queen for the land. Prince Milluki came a minute after with his servant, and as they proceeded to read the literature together, Hisoka genuinely thought how crazy was that he, a no one, a peasant, a lunatic and a crazy nomad, stood right before the glorified five, witnessing the children of the King, the virtuous descendants of Kukuroo ancestors with his own naked eyes. He wanted to run away to the fish market, or the paddy field, or the warehouse, Love Chamber, anywhere; or perhaps he should confess himself to the temple and ask for forgiveness, because every time his eyes would unavoidably falter on his Prince, his Angel, his heart would rot and his lungs would go numb, a painful reminder that _this_ was the Prince, the one and only Prince Illumi Zoldyck; and he sweared, if he had the strength, he would shred his feelings into pieces and that his ignorance had wronged him. 

********* 

He never confessed to the temple, nor did he have the strength to shred his feelings. 

It wasn’t only during Literature that Hisoka got to witness the majesties gathering together. It was also at night, when they had dinner and midnight refreshments, and the whole family, including the King and Queen, would go to the Porch, sit around the mahogany table to dine their luxurious dish: Lobster Caviar, Roasted Ham and Saffron, Grilled Matsutake Mushroom with Olive Dip, and sometimes Swallows’ Nest Soup, or the delicious Wagyu Beef served with pots of Green Tea and Salted Ginger. Dinner was the longest agenda of the day, and because of that, the servants were also given a break time to fill up and recess in the Servants’ Chamber. The foods weren’t as lavishing as the one on the King’s mahogany table, but it was fulfilling and enough for Hisoka to taste all the bliss he had never tried during his life as a villager: Shrimp Rolls, Omelette, Dried Seaweed, Bamboo Shoots, Rice Cakes, Sweet Potato, Salted Egg Tofu; and although he had worked as a fisherman at the bay, he had never tried a Grilled Sea Bass as tasty as that one. The other servants would pour Sake and Lemongrass in paper cups, and they would stuff their mouth with more shrimps like they never ate in their whole life. While Hisoka was getting used to the atmosphere, a servant with a round face and firm demeanor put his chopsticks down and asked, So you’re Hisoka? Hisoka The Ace? 

It was that one single question that led Hisoka to build a healthy friendship with his fellow colleagues. The round-faced servant introduced himself as Ikalgo, Prince Killua’s private servant, and he would tell him about how some things worked in the palace, the things Hisoka was not familiar with yet, the things he had not known before. 

“You might be questioning why it’s like that, but it’s just like that,” Ikalgo would say, “so better get used to it.” 

The other servant who Hisoka was fond of was Princess Alluka’s private servant, who later introduced herself as Canary. Like the bird? He asked. Yes, like the bird. I’ll just call you The Bird then, he said, and with that, Canary would stifle a laugh and blushed. There was also Shalnark, Prince Milluki’s servant, and Mitsuba, Princess Kalluto’s servant who spent most of her time saying nothing and just smiled. That night, Hisoka exchanged countless stories with them, mostly about his experience working in a thousand different jobs. Ikalgo and Shalnark were especially interested in the Love Chamber, and as they were enjoying the delicious midnight refreshments, Hisoka could finally let his guard down and felt a little better since the first time he arrived in the palace. “To Hisoka The Ace,” Ikalgo would say while toasting his Sake to the air, “welcome to the family.” 

The servants had to be back to the Porch at least ten minutes before the family dinner was done, and together with their masters, they would walk all the way to the Right Wing and escort them to their own Resting Chambers. When Hisoka asked Ikalgo why they had to name it Resting Chambers instead of Sleeping Chambers, he said: “The Majesties never sleep, Hisoka; you don’t know what might befall the Kingdom when they do.” 

It was during nights like these that made Hisoka want to slit his veins and scorch himself on fire. He had to be alone with the Prince in the chamber, burning the Lavender scented candle, setting the head pillow, and as the Prince lied down at the soft mattress, Hisoka would pull the blanket all the way to the Prince’s neck and asked if he still needed anything; and Hisoka had to do it every night, every single passing day, which meant he, without any option, had to deal with that face; that delicate ivory face that reflected warm shadows and a soft halo around his features. Hisoka always wanted to say something, anything, but the Prince would always drift off to sleep before Hisoka could say anything, and even if he had the chance, he wouldn’t possibly do it because he would always turn his face away and pretend like he wasn’t suffering from his own misery. He would leave for the ward and try to sleep through the night, but how could he be sleeping when he knew that behind this thin wall, lied a beautiful Prince that looked so peaceful in his sleep? 

Or maybe, just maybe, if Hisoka could do it fast enough, he could breach through the wall, sneak inside the chamber, kneel beside the sleeping Prince and seal their lips together; and he could return to his ward without a single breath escaping his mouth and lie down at his own mattress while he moan and die. 

*********

He was surprised that relationships between servants or guards were not forbidden in the palace. When he asked Ikalgo about it, the latter had explained that the palace wanted to keep the circle as small as possible, so guards and servants were allowed to get married and have kids, which made the kids automatically had to serve for the King. 

It was Amane that saved him. She was the servant’s granddaughter, grew up in the palace, and had been serving for the Kingdom from such a very young age. She was a nice girl and was extremely shy, but too fast to fall for Hisoka’s sweet words and empty promises; so by the fourth day of their short encounter, they were already devouring each other’s lips and claiming that they were meant to be together. Hisoka felt bad for Amane, the fact that she sincerely loved him, but Hisoka did not want to miss any opportunity that could divert himself away from the Prince. During their free times, they would stroll around the palace, spend the whole evening at the garden and feed the nightingales; and everyone was jealous of the couple for being all cute and romantic. He had been dating Amane for two weeks now, and they wouldn’t possibly see each other on a daily basis if Amane didn’t follow him everywhere like a stamp on a glue. Hisoka couldn’t show his irritation, of course, so he would just lift Amane by her chin and said, “Later, darling.” Later when? Amane would ask, and Hisoka, just to quickly shut her up, would give her his sweetest smile and said, “Meet me at the garden at ten tonight.” 

It had been such a long time since the last time he injected his cum into women. He had his wet dreams and ejaculated, but he forgot what it felt like to feel whole inside a woman’s vulva, breathed in their pleasure sighs, and bursted. When Hisoka arrived at the garden, Amane was already waiting for him behind the orchid bush, a spot that was fairly hidden, with her hands folded at her back, being all a good girl with her nervous smile, and without prolonging the time, Hisoka grabbed her by the cheek and bridged their mouths together. At first it was only a normal kiss, but then it got deeper, and rougher, and now they were kissing each other so violently, as though they never kissed enough, and Hisoka lifted her Kanjiri up to her thigh and started groping her. She was moaning; a melodic moan it was, sweeter than all the chorus in Love Chamber, and Hisoka wasn’t stopping as he continued to bite her ears and her neck; but no, that didn’t happen, that never happened, because Amane suddenly gasped and pulled herself away from Hisoka, like something had shocked her, like she had just seen a ghost, and Hisoka instinctively followed her gaze and found Prince Illumi was standing beside the bush the whole time. 

For a moment, the Prince just stood there, plucking the white orchids, throwing it to the ground, and did the same thing all over again. Even after Hisoka and Amane had clearly noticed the Prince, and knew that the Prince had also noticed them, he just continued doing so, as though his presence didn’t just startle anyone, as if he was invisible and that nobody knew he was there. Hisoka was too taken that he couldn’t even say a word, but after his mind was coherent enough, he swallowed the lump in his throat and said, “Forgive our irreverence, Your Majesty. It is our ignorance that we did not realize you have been present.” 

The Prince plucked his last orchid and walked away without saying anything. Amane spent the rest of the night crying, saying, What if we get executed? And although they knew relationships between servants were not necessarily forbidden, there were no such cases where they got caught in the middle of making out by the royal family members themselves. Hisoka had to calm her down, and although he knew they would not get executed, he was still anxious because he didn’t know how he would face the Prince, and that the situation was making everything harder than it already was. 

********* 

Hisoka was summoned the next morning by the Prince to the Main Hall. He thought he was going to get punished, or fired, but to his surprise, the Prince was in his usual demeanor; he was on his brush and paints, studying his canvas, completely composed and unbothered, as if yesterday’s incident never happened; and when Hisoka was in his vicinity, he just glanced up and said, “Please get me Loki from the forest.” 

Loki was a kind of fruit that was famous and only grew in the highlands of Kukuroo. Hisoka left the palace, climbed the hill, went inside the forest, plucked the black colored fruits from its dense bush, descended the hill, and returned to the Main Hall. He handed the fruits to the Prince, when the latter blinked and said, “I must have forgotten to tell you I wanted the blue one.”

Hisoka had to go back to climb the hill, went inside the forest, plucked the blue colored fruits from the bush, climbed down the hill, and returned to the Main Hall. When he handed the fruits over, the Prince said, “Small Blue Lokis aren’t supreme for painting. I want the big ones.” 

So Hisoka, with his trembling legs and shallow pants, went back to climb the hill, went inside the forest, plucked the big blue Lokis, descended the hill, returned to the palace and handed over the requested item. The Prince looked at him and said, “I think I want the red one, too.” 

“Your Majesty...” 

“And I want them now.” 

Hisoka assumed that the ridicule was due to the recent incident, so regardless, he still left for the hill, climbed all the way up, went in the forest, and plucked the stupid red Loki fruits. He had tried a hundred different labor works in the past, but never in his life worked in a job where he had to go back to back, up and down a towering hill, and his calf muscles couldn’t endure the pain that his walks would just get slower and slower as he descended for the palace and returned to the Main Hall. “I needed you to fan me and get me water,” the Prince said in his most flat expression, but Hisoka swore he could hear that accusing tone, as if the Prince was blaming him that he couldn’t get there faster than he already did; and Hisoka was so powerlessly furious inside that he didn’t even budge a spot, and after a short while, the Prince spoke again, “I’m tired. I need to soak.” 

Hisoka rushed to the Bathroom Chamber to prepare for the tub. Every time the Prince needed to soak, it was Hisoka’s ritual for having to burn the scented Lavender, to hang his towel on the wooden hanger, to fill the tub with warm water, and to spread the rose petals on top of the water’s surface. Usually the Prince would tell Hisoka to leave as there was nothing else he needed him to do, but that evening, the Prince said nothing, and so Hisoka just stood there, didn’t say a word, didn’t breathe a soul, unsure what to do and he didn’t know how long the silence had passed because time was moving so slow. He prayed in his heart, in the name of all Southern Deities, that he wished he could disappear from the world instead of having to deal with this kind of torment every single day of his life. The Prince’s voice finally broke his silent prayers: “Have you heard this story about the Grieving Orchid?” 

Hisoka was rather surprised by the Prince’s sudden inspiration to story-tell. “No, Your Majesty, I have not,” he said. 

The Prince was back into his silent mode. After a long while, he blinked and said, “Once upon a time, there was a sad Orchid who lived in a huge palace of bush. The Orchid was so sad and sullen because he never got to taste the freedom outside of the bush, as he always had to focus on becoming the perfect flower that would lead its plant kingdom. His orchid parents were getting concerned about his well-being, so one day they let him fly with the bees to explore the garden. In the garden, he met a beautiful caterpillar who was working on his cocoon, and the Orchid was so captivated because he had never seen a living being so passionate, so happy and so sincere with what he was doing. And for that, the Orchid was jealous of him.” 

The Prince was still before he breathed and proceeded: 

“The Orchid left the garden, but the Caterpillar was stuck in his mind. It stuck there day and night, during his sleep or when he was awake, so the Orchid decided to pray to the top of the pine tree and ask for forgiveness. He was torn between desire and fear; and he prayed to the Southern Deities that if the Caterpillar was meant for him, then let fate take over and bring them together. From that day on, the Orchid told all the flowers in his kingdom to bloom in their finest form, hoping to attract the Caterpillar to come to them. The Orchid was giving up because there was no sign of the Caterpillar, but after two years, a beautiful butterfly flew on its wings and perched on the bush,” the Prince turned to look at Hisoka and glaring daggers into his eyes, “but the Orchid realized that he didn’t know if the Butterfly wanted to see him again. So although the Butterfly was hovering and flying around him everyday, the Orchid spent the rest of his days grieving, not knowing if the Butterfly would ever look at him, the way he would look at the Butterfly from he was still a Caterpillar.” 

Silence encompassed the whole room, but Hisoka felt like the world was crumbling beneath his feet. 

“Your Majesty...”

“I have been looking for you for the last two years, Hisoka,” the Prince said, and it was the first time the Prince had ever said his name, “you don’t know how glad I am to have found you again.” And they just stood there, looking at each other's' eyes, boring into each other's' soul, and Hisoka without hesitating, ran to the Prince and wrapped his quivering arms around the Prince’s body. They hugged for God knew how long, and when Hisoka broke the hug, he said foolishly, “Am I even allowed?” He felt so undeserving, so unmatched and so inappropriate, but somehow he never let go of the Prince’s hold, and Prince Illumi with his soft and trembling hands, cupped Hisoka’s side temple and brought his lips to Hisoka’s without much of a preamble. 

For a moment they just kissed there, tasting the new flavor in their mouth; it tasted like blessings, and all the two years of misery evaporated to mid air. Their lips remained intact and Hisoka forgot they were in the bathroom, in the palace, he felt like they might be back in the warehouse, or at the bay, at the paddy field or in the forest; they were nowhere and everywhere at the same time, and that his concept of time and space was suddenly blurring. It was as if he was being in autopilot mode where he wasn’t even fully conscious of what he was doing, and so when he instinctively stripped the green Kanjiri off the Prince, he was shocked as he didn’t know when he ever had the guts to do that. He also didn’t remember much about how his own Kanjiri was already lying on the ground, but he was already inside the tub stark-naked with the Prince and resumed kissing. His tongue was a burning fire and his hands were electrocuted; the way they were devouring each others’ neck and collarbone was so profound and so transcendent, a choreographed dance that was beyond synchronized and the water around them constantly got splashed outside the tub and onto the floor. Here they were; two hungry men who had to starve for two years, and now they were doing their paybacks as no one could stop them, not even themselves. 

Hisoka didn’t want to let go of the Prince, because it was too good to be true, like in his dreams, and he was scared that if they stopped, he would wake up and find that this wasn’t real. But acceptance was the hardest part, it was always the hardest part; like when he had to acknowledge his fate, accepting that he had met the Prince in the warehouse, accepting the Prince didn’t come back, accepting he was a crazy nomad for the last two years in search for the Prince, accepting he had to give up by working in the palace, and accepting the fact that all of this madness only led him to the very same source of his purpose. If he could accept that, then he also had to accept, no matter how impossible or absurd, that the Prince was also in search for him, that the Prince was looking for no one but him, and that the Prince reciprocated his feelings as they made love in the tub and wept.

*********

Now that he thought about it, he could clearly say that working in the palace was a lot better than in the village; not because of his requited love life, but rather because of all the facilities that the palace provided for their workers. He was given new sets of comfortable Kanjiri, a new pair of warm sandals, a toothbrush and a sulphur for bath, and his stomach was always full as there were snacks everyday in the kitchen. During the free time, he and his fellow servants would go for a short walk to the forest, or hang out in the Servants’ Chamber, or they would go to the river and swim there together after a long day of work. Sometimes they would just lie supine on the river’s surface and did nothing, just floating there like a dead leaf, letting the water wash their whole and the breeze caress their face. They would talk about girls, about foods, about their life in the palace, about the King or the Queen, about the Royal Five, and again about girls. Sometimes the other servants would also persuade Hisoka to tell them more about the Love Chamber, and one time there was a woman servant who came to the river to do the laundry, but had to retreat in her shyest smile at the view she accidentally saw. 

After a quick swim that afternoon, when everyone had returned to their ward, Hisoka had to rush himself to the nearest ward to borrow an extra pair of undershirt. He was now standing in Shalnark’s doorway, head peeking inside the ward. 

“What happened to your undershirt?” Shalnark asked. 

“I used them all for swimming,” Hisoka shivered. “Please? It’s cold out here.” 

It was true, the fact that they had to wear an extra shirt beneath their Kanjiri. The Kanjiri garment design looked almost like a mere outer, like a cloak with just several straps on the side to tie them up together, and it was only reasonable to wear something else inside, as the cold wind was too much of a torture if they didn’t. Shalnark was shuffling through his drawer, and other than the drawer, there was also a huge sac, a wooden box, a tube, a lantern, and a pretty cool set of archery kit; and it was then that he realized his ward was a lot emptier than Shalnark’s, or the other servants’ for that matter. He was planning to enliven his ward, maybe decorate it with something, when Shalnark stood up from the drawer and handed him the undershirt. Just keep it, Shalnark said as Hisoka left for the stable. 

*********

Other than chilling in the river with his fellow private servants, Hisoka liked to hang out with other servants as well, like the ones who worked in the garden or in the palace’s front yard, and especially the one in the horse stable. His name was Seaquant, the horse man, and Hisoka would stick around helping him with all the thatches and brush. It reminded him of his old days with Troy at the damp farm, and if only Troy could meet his friends and see what life was in the inside palace. 

“Which one is Prince Illumi’s horse?” Hisoka asked. 

Seaquant led him to the far end of the stable, and there behind a cart stood a beautiful black horse with its shining black hair and black marble eyes. Her name is Helden, Seaquant said, and Hisoka imagined the days where there would be horse convoy in the village, and without him knowing, Helden would trot pass him with the Prince on top of her saddle, being all gallant and dazzling while clutching his hands on the bridle. Seaquant introduced him to the other horses, and with that, he looked at Hisoka and said, “How come the horses are fond of you?” And Hisoka would just snort and repeat his typical story all over again. In return, Seaquant also told the story about the first time he was placed by Gotoh in the stable, and the bond he had with other human beings was nothing like the bond he had with the horses. “They know me more than I know myself,” Seaquant smiled proudly, and with that, the man had secretly become Hisoka’s favorite friend as he continued to work on the thatches and feed the horse. 

Some days were a little troublesome for him, as Amane was still around and was still expecting to see him; but whenever he saw her from a distance, he would immediately retreat or pretend to be busy, and somehow his escape was always successful that Amane became too tired to chase him again. At night, during the midnight refreshments, Hisoka and his fellow servants would drink Sake and talk about the upcoming Tea Banquet, and when they asked him about his relationship with Amane, he would just shrug and drink. You two are no longer together? Ikalgo and Shalnark asked. Unfortunately no, Hisoka said. Why? Was it small? The three men chuckled as Canary smacked their heads, and Mitsuba, as always, would just display her usual stolid smile and sigh. 

*********

There were times where Prince Illumi, Prince Milluki, and Prince Killua had to go up the forest to train. Together with each servant and a guard, they would ascend the rocky tracks, fighting their way through the dense trees and damp grass, until they arrived at what seemed like an open area with wildflowers and pine trees surrounding the field. The three princes had a sparring session that morning where they had to battle one another in a sword fight. The guard would monitor and pair them in turns. 

“You can’t do that,” Prince Milluki protested to Prince Killua after his sword got flung onto the ground. “That’s cheating.” 

Prince Killua never cheated. He was always fair and reasonable in his fights, and he was so skillful that it was almost all the time where Prince Killua defeated his two brothers with just a single blow or a dodgy snap from the side. Under the sweats that ran down from his black hair to his bare neck, he would just breathe out a loud exhale and ask for more rounds, as if the previous rounds weren’t exhausting or weren’t satisfying enough. During those times, Hisoka and Shalnark could only sigh before giving Ikalgo a piece of Jenny from their pockets, for they always lost a bet every time a battle started. However, that particular morning, Ikalgo had to bite his own tongue when Prince Killua’s sword flew a mile away and fell on the grass. 

“Patience, Killua,” Prince Illumi said calmly as his blade was pointing right in front of his brother’s nose, “or you’re never going to defeat yourself.” 

Hisoka had to grin for receiving his first Jenny from the two other whining servants. 

After the sparring session ended, they would descend the hill together and return to the palace. He wondered where the Loki fruits were, as they walked along a different track. He would listen to the chirps of canary, the blow of the cold morning wind, and he would nudge the Touch-Me-Not with his feet as the plant squirmed and shut itself in. 

“I’ll catch up,” Prince Illumi said to his two younger brothers. 

The group then proceeded their way as they left the Prince behind, and when they were no longer in sight, the Prince pushed Hisoka against the nearest pine tree and crashed their mouths together. How teasing was the Prince, to slide Hisoka’s Kanjiri up his thigh and squish his cock; but Hisoka was one to be more plausible as he ignored his aching crotch and stopped the Prince’s hands mid way. “Not here,” he said. “Not safe.” 

It wasn’t only then that they would take golden opportunities like that. Other times was when Hisoka had to escort the Prince to the Front Porch, or to the Main Hall, to the garden or to his chamber; and Hisoka would cautiously, very cautiously, use the chance to hold the Prince’s hand, or grab his ass, or graze his back, and the Prince would pretend not to know that Hisoka didn’t know he was hard. 

And that day in the forest, witnessed by the pine trees and the canaries, they had to put their desire and yearning on hold, waiting until they arrived back in the palace and in the Prince’s chamber; and with their greedy lips and greedy hands, they would savor each others’ body without mercy and staining marks here and there, a mark nobody should trespass because it was their territory; and they would lie in each others’ arms, all worn and exhausted, before they finally drifted off to sleep with the scented Lavender burned in the corner of the quiet chamber. 

And since that day, although Hisoka planned to give some decorations, he never slept in his ward again.

*********

The palace’s garden was such a balm for sore eyes. In the evening, when the night lanterns were lit and crickets were chirping from the distance, Hisoka liked to spend his time walking along the marble tracks of the garden, adoring the rose, lily, jasmine, rosella, and lavender blooming in their prettiest colors. It reminded him of the day back in the village where he was working as a florist, helping with all the beautiful buckets and the pots to be displayed in the stall. He stopped in front of the orchid bush and grazed their tip with his thumb: blue, orange, red, pink, white, purple, green and yellow orchids lining up in rows, and he couldn’t resist a smile as the view reminded him of the tale about the Grieving Orchid the Prince once told him in the bathroom. 

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” 

Hisoka was surprised to see Prince Killua was also there in the garden, and now the Prince was joining him studying the bush. Hisoka bowed his head and said, “Yes, Your Majesty. Beautiful indeed.” 

“Are you going to give them to someone?” 

“I think so.” 

“Then why don’t you pluck it?” 

“I want to,” Hisoka smiled helplessly, “but I’m not sure which color.” 

Prince Killua had to stifle a laugh before putting his hand on Hisoka’s shoulder and said, “Even if you give him a chunk of wood, I’m sure Anniki would still love it.” 

That evening in the garden, Prince Killua told him everything. He told him about those times during Literature Study where his brother’s eyes would stare elsewhere instead of the book they were reading. He told him about those times during family dinner where his brother’s eyes would constantly check the clock and kept glancing at the Porch’s entrance. He told him that after a while, he could finally see the elephant was under his nose this whole time; that if he looked close enough, he would easily find them stealing glances towards each other, intertwining their fingers together, held hands, grazing each others’ back or giving soft touches on each others’ arms. “I don’t think others know. But I’m not going to tell on you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” the Prince tried to convince Hisoka as he pulled his widest grin, which was not convincing at all, and said, “don’t worry, you can trust me.” 

Prince Killua didn’t realize that Hisoka’s heart had dislodged itself from his chest, or that his face was as pale as corpse, thanks to the dim light of the garden’s lantern; but Hisoka had seen the way Prince Illumi looked at his brother, and the way his brother looked at him; if it wasn’t trust, he didn’t know what else it was; and if there was one thing he should be thankful for that day, it was because it’s Prince Killua who knew and not anybody else. 

********* 

Hisoka was in the Prince’s chamber, braiding his hair and lubricating it with gin tonic. For the Tea Banquet, the Prince had to wear a posh Lime Green Kanjiri with golden lines and white sparkles adorning its edges. The color represented the tea for the offerings, and the Prince told him that the banquet was a regular agenda where guests from other kingdoms would come to their palace to meet and dine. It sounded like a fun agenda, but the Prince’s face spoke otherwise. 

“King Nostrade of the Northern Isle will be there with his daughter,” the Prince said, “and my father wants me to show her around.” 

And Hisoka knew more than enough what it meant. 

It was a common phenomenon among the kingdoms to couple their children together, and to have certain rules and restrictions in marriage, due to the bloodlines of their ancestors. Kings would be in-laws with one another, even before their children were born. They would talk about how fate had brought them together, as well as their child and the future heir, and with the blessing from the Deities, they would burn the offerings and pray for their children’s soul and fertility. It was no other different case for Prince Illumi. _My father wants me to show her around,_ Hisoka repeated those words in the back of his tongue, and as he locked gaze with the Prince through the mirror’s reflection, they were stuck in the longest, most painful conversation in which none of them were saying anything.

That evening, the palace’s Main Hall was full of guests: of Kings, of Queens, of Princes and of Princesses, and together they would sit around a huge wooden table and savor the banquet’s dish: Chicken Soup, Crab Stick, Baked Marlin with Tomato Dip, Lemon Tofu, Grilled Ham, Dried Apricots, Dried Momiji, and endless pots of Green Tea. Everybody was talking with everyone, got acquainted with one another, discussing about foods, about the kingdom, about horses, about the village, about their heir, about the sword fight, about Kanjiri, about the cold weather, about the temple, about the Green Tea and about the banquet; and Prince Illumi was there, sitting beside the Princess of Nostrade, speaking ever so carefully, smiling ever so respectfully. After the dish, the Prince took her to palace’s garden to have a short walk, because he was _showing her around;_ and although Hisoka did not want to see it, he somehow couldn’t look away when they held hands along the marble tracks and interlaced their fingers, or when the Princess suddenly put her palm on Prince Illumi’s cheek and brought their lips together. Hisoka knew well he didn’t have the right to be angry. He should have known, since the first day he stepped foot on the palace, that this was the reality; this was the Prince’s life, that he was born as an heir and to marry a Princess, to make a noble King for the kingdom and to be honored by his people. 

So that night after the banquet was finished, Hisoka rushed to his ward right away and shushing himself to sleep, although sleeping was suddenly a hard task. His eyes were prickling and his throat was clogged, and he was cursing himself as to why he let his rage take over when he knew it wasn’t going to solve anything and that there was nothing he could do about it. However, he never got to sleep that night, not because of his nightmares, but because the door of his ward was suddenly flung open and the Prince was standing right behind it. Hisoka was rather surprised with that unexpected action, but before he could register anything else, the Prince suddenly threw himself into Hisoka’s arms and wept. He looked utterly terrified, like he was being chased by something, and in the middle of his hiccup and his tears, he clung so tightly onto Hisoka and said, Please, help me. Hisoka did not understand what he was talking about, but he also understood what he was talking about; and although Hisoka wasn’t sure if it was a right thing to do, he cupped the Prince’s face and kissed his teardrops away. The Prince didn’t say anything other than his quiet sobs, but through his eyes, Hisoka could see hopelessness, pain, misery and fear; and it was as if the Prince was apologizing, though Hisoka knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault. 

“Don’t let go of me,” the Prince begged. “I’d rather die than to know you leave me.” 

Hisoka liked to pretend he wasn’t suffocated hearing that, but before he could do so much as to strangle himself, the Prince stripped all his garments and clashed their mouths together. He did it so rashly and so rough, like he wanted to cleanse his mouth from something filthy, from something he just did a while ago in the Tea Banquet, and he was taking his fury out through every pecks of his lips: on his neck, his jaw, his collarbone, his chest, his abdomen, and the Prince was smearing Hisoka everywhere that the latter didn’t even have a chance to reciprocate. I’m here, my Angel, I’m always here, Hisoka wanted to say; and it was only a few minutes after that Hisoka could finally let go of his worries and for once surrendered.

The ward was surely a narrow space to occupy two big men, but as they started banging each other and wailed, the ward somehow didn’t feel so narrow anymore. 

*********

The palace had never been quiet. There were always guests coming and going: for a regular assembly, for a Banquet, for an urgent meeting, for a ceremony. That afternoon, a guest came to the Throne Room for a marriage proposal. 

“I am Gon Freecs of Whale Island,” that man said before the King, “and I wish to marry your daughter, Princess Alluka of the Southern Land.” 

The Prince had met Princess Alluka a few weeks ago in the Tea Banquet. Hisoka had caught glimpses of the two lovebirds talking to each other near the pillar during the banquet, but he didn’t know the Prince would be so bold and to decide so fast as to marry the Princess. In the Throne Room, the Royal Five were sitting in a row, and in the middle sat the glorified King Silva and his wife, Queen Kikyo; and since a Zoldyck could marry a Freecs, the King and Queen were more than glad to welcome their guest. Hisoka, as well as Shalnark, Ikalgo, Canary and Mitsuba, were standing right behind their own masters, being a muted audience of the unanticipated proposal. Hisoka knew no one was watching, so he would sneak his finger and slowly stroke the Prince’s hair from behind, and Hisoka knew that the Prince knew it turned both of them on. Meanwhile on the last two rows of the seat, there was nothing Princess Alluka could do but to sit back helplessly and watch; she would stare at her father with pleading eyes, begging him not to be too harsh on the Prince. 

_“_ Tell me, Prince Gon,” the King said, “why do you deserve to be my son in law?” 

“I don’t, Your Majesty,” Prince Gon placed his one hand on his chest, “but I am good at sword fights, if it’s to your liking; and that’s the only thing I could possibly offer.” 

And by that, Prince Killua rose from his seat, drawing his own blade and said, “I wish to challenge your wits, Gon Freecs, and if you can fling this blade off of my hand, I would be more than honored to entrust you with my sister.” 

It was a tradition to have family members challenging a prince that came to propose their daughters. From their seats, the royal family would watch the intense sword battle as the two princes muster their strength to defeat each other. Prince Killua was in his dashing blue Kanjiri and a black headband wrapped around his forehead to the back of his temple, and with his silver sword, his jet black locks and burning blue eyes, he would stride with a grip so firm and a gaze so fixed, and everybody knew he was more than ready to defeat his opponent.

“My brother is going to lose.” 

Surprised by Prince Illumi’s hushed words, Hisoka leaned closer and asked, “Why do you think so?” 

“Because he is driven by pride,” he said, “while the other is driven by humility.” 

The battle was ended that afternoon with Prince Killua’s sword flew off of his hand and fell on the ground, followed by a wedding ceremony six days after and a joyous celebration from both the Whale Island Kingdom and the Southern Kingdom; and it was also the first time Hisoka had seen the Prince wearing the Orchid Kanjiri he bought in the warehouse two years ago. 

********* 

There was, again, a horse convoy in which the royal family had to go down the village and visit a Kingdom next door for a banquet. 

The last time a convoy happened, Hisoka was still a nomad and had not yet worked for the palace. How come I never thought you were a Prince? Hisoka asked one day. Prince Illumi had told him everything about their confidentiality, that if the royal family members were to go down the village, they would disguise themselves as villagers; and nobody would notice who they were because not a single soul in the world knew what they looked like, except for the palace workers. Before a convoy started, there was this routine where the servants had to ‘Fetch their Majesties’; basically there would be a short briefing, led by Gotoh, and the servants had to wait at the Front Porch for their masters to come, before finally escorting them to their horses. The briefing was a bit delayed that day because they had to wait for Shalnark who was still in the restroom, and the briefing was immediately conducted as soon as everyone was present. About thirty minutes after, their Majesties were arriving one by one at the Front Porch: they were in their spectacular dark purple Kanjiri, with the golden lace adorning its edges, and the traditional regal hats on their head. The men had the blade striped behind their back, and the women had the paper fan in their hands. Everyone looked beyond marvelous, but Hisoka couldn’t look at anyone but the Prince, and he was starstruck, as he always was, and would be forever fascinated by the Prince’s true beauty, no matter the outfit he was in. When they were escorting the royal family to their horses, Hisoka had to complain because he couldn’t grab the Prince’s ass, as there were far too many people behind them; and the Prince knew what Hisoka was thinking, so he just shot a glance and smirked faintly. 

And then there was the convoy. Everyone had to bow down, honoring the Majesties who were now sitting on each of their horses, and Hisoka was already counting down the time until he could be alone with the Prince again. He was thinking of the Prince’s opulent lips when he suddenly heard a neigh, a neigh so frantic like the horse was under a serious threat, and although they had to bow down, the neigh sounded so familiar to his ears that he wasn’t bowing down anymore. Helden was standing in her two legs, and Hisoka’s eyes plopped out of the socket as he realized Prince Illumi was struggling to balance himself on top of her; and before he knew it, he was already on his feet and running towards the scene. He thought he could make it on time, but the Prince had already fallen onto the ground, with the horse shrieking hysterically right above his sprawling body. Everyone was in a state of shock: the Queen was screaming, Princess Alluka was crying, Prince Killua got down from his own horse at once, and together with Hisoka, they both immediately dragged the Prince away from the uproar. It was only five minutes after that Helden was finally calm, by the help of other guards and servants who were around, and the horse was instantly returned to the stable. There was no convoy that day, and King Silva had to apologize to his associate for having to postpone their attendance to the banquet. 

Seaquant was interrogated that very same day, as to why the saddle on that horse was tied loose and the belt wasn’t striped. Seaquant swore in his life that he already set the saddle properly, he even checked it twice and made sure everything was set, like he always did. The other guards were also interrogated, as to how they could let a snake enter the horse track. They swore in their life that they already cleared the path, and they even checked it again right one minute before the convoy started. _Anything could happen under one minute_ , King Silva spat on their faces; and although they swore they would never have an intention to harm the Prince, they were arrested in the dungeon the next day under the verdict of treachery and murder attempt. 

*********

Hisoka and the Prince were back in the chamber, with scented Lavender burned in the corner and a warm Jasmine Tea on the table. The Prince had to suffer a back pain due to the recent incident, and of course Hisoka had to be the one massaging his sore back with olive oil. 

“How insolent I am, to take advantage of your accident,” Hisoka said. 

“Is it bad?” 

“To take advantage?” 

“No, my back.” 

Though it looked pretty awful, Hisoka would just place his most gentle kiss on the Prince’s back and say, “It’s healed already.” 

And he was sure he was only massaging the Prince, so he didn’t remember why or how they ended up naked now and were groping each other’s thigh. It always felt surreal, to have the Prince’s tongue on his neck and the hand on his groin; and it was beyond extraordinary, the fact that he could always reciprocate the sincerity of his warmth, and so he let his mouth and his hands take over, and the Prince groaned; and Hisoka had to laugh at him for groaning so loud because he barely did anything. 

“My back, Hisoka,” the Prince scrunched. “My back.” 

The air felt colder that night. Although they had to delay the intercourse, they were still tight in each others’ arms as they laid down together on the soft mattress. Crickets were chirping, the wind was blowing through the leaves, and they could slightly hear the nightingale singing from afar. Alluka loved that sound, the Prince would say. And it reminded Hisoka of that convoy incident, where he saw the Princess was desperately crying for her brother. He could still picture it clearly, how Helden stood up on her two legs and how the Prince fell down her back, completely unarmed and unguarded. Hisoka was silent for a few minutes, too silent even, like he was considering something very serious. The Prince kissed his eyebrow and asked what was troubling him, and so Hisoka told him about the flying Sogi and the dead Cuckoos. 

*********

There were moments where they just spent the whole day horse-riding up the hill, through the gigantic pine trees and listened to the canaries from afar. They would stop by the lake, let their horses drink and they would sit on the log, admiring the Kukuroo village from up there. They would watch as the frog jumped from one lotus to another, or when the fish were showing themselves to the surface, or when the worm appeared from under the log and Prince Illumi took it with his index finger. 

“Why do we have to be us?” 

Hisoka picked a pebble from the ground and threw it to the lake, all the while drilling the Prince’s question into his brain as he remembered about the day they first met in the warehouse. _I am anything I want to be,_ the Prince had said that day, and Hisoka could honestly admit that he never understood the words better than he did now. Why couldn’t they be born as a frog, or a duck, or a fish, or a worm, or a complete meaningless piece of log? Why couldn’t they be the Orchid and the Butterfly like in his tale? Why did they have to be two men, one a Prince and one a servant, loving each other so deeply and so desperately when they knew that it wasn’t going to bring them anywhere? Why, Hisoka wanted to ask, did they have to be someone else to be accepted? 

Hisoka had to thank the noisy crowd in the village below. It distracted them from the conversation Hisoka wouldn’t want to have, wasn’t ready to have; and as an attempt to forget all the melancholy talks, he decided to stand on his two feet while pointing at the view below them; because perhaps, that day, the Butterfly could take the Orchid to fly away with him. “Your Majesty,” he said with a knowing smile, “do you wish to explore the garden?” 

********* 

Hisoka had to admit that he missed the village. It was, after all, his true home; a place where he grew up, a place he knew well, a place closer than his own vein, a place that held a thousand memories of his joy, his sorrow, his laughter, his madness, his reality and his dream; a place that heard his prayers of the Angel every night, and now, he came there with the Angel himself.

Truth be told, the tour around the village felt so much more intimate than all their intercourses combined. Hisoka felt bare and naked, and completely exposed, as he was letting the Prince travel through every corner of his past, of the places where he used to work, to search for the Prince. Everybody recognized him; like the ones at the paddy field and at the fish market, or at the butcher shop and the charcoal storehouse; and while he was talking to them, the Prince would stand in the distance, hovering around with his head covered by a hood. You look like a burglar, Hisoka would say afterwards. They also stopped in some food stalls, and while the Prince was buying his Dried Momiji, Hisoka would disappear quickly to the flower shop to buy a bundle of white orchids, and give it to the Prince. 

They also walked further into the center of the village, and Hisoka stopped in front of the textile warehouse. Hanjo was inside, concentrating on his fabrics and his threads, eyes looked all puffed and tired. Hisoka wished he could go inside and hug that man, saying, Thank you, thank you for taking care of me, for teaching me how to make beautiful Kanjiri, and for witnessing my encounter with the Angel. The Prince might have noticed the way Hisoka looked inside the warehouse, so he asked, Do you want to come inside? But Hisoka just shook his head and smiled. 

The village was more blithesome than it usually was. There were more food stalls, more children playing outdoors, there were so many flags and ribbons displayed along the roofs, and Hisoka saw a man in a black hood jumping from one roof to another. What is that sound? The Prince asked. A Music. You want to find out? Sure, he said. Hisoka led the Prince to the source of the beautiful melody of Shamisen, and in the open they found a crowd who was circling around the plaza. Hisoka and the Prince pushed their way into the crowd, and behind it was a group of people performing Akamura; a Kukuroonese traditional dance in which the dancers were in their colorful Kanjiri, some of them had a long ribbon spun in the mid air while some had paper fans in their hands, and accompanied by the Shamisen, they would twist and turn so beautifully, so solemnly and so elegantly, and the children would tell their mothers how they wanted to be an Akamura dancer one day. The Prince was enthralled by the festive, not because he had never seen such show, but because of the raw atmosphere that spoke of freedom and joy, that everyone was celebrating anything that could be celebrated; their life, their home, their family, friends and neighbor, the foods on their plate, the Kanjiri that warmed their bodies everyday, and for all the bliss that fell upon their lives as Kukuroo villagers. It was already late and they should go back to the palace, but Hisoka didn’t have the heart to interrupt the Prince; so he just stood there from the distance, admiring the Prince who was admiring the show. A moment later, his eyes fell on a strange view at the far end of the plaza. The man in a black hood was there on the roof, crawling and creeping in the smallest gesture imaginable. Hisoka could swear on his life that it was only a matter of second before the man directed his bow and released the arrow towards the Prince; but Hisoka was faster, he was faster than any lightning in the stormy days of the Southern Land, and as he fled to the Prince that was still unaware of the danger he was in, Hisoka threw his arms around the Prince and the cloak of his Kanjiri was floating in the air, like a bird in its wings, and he was hugging the Prince from behind before he felt a deep thud on his back. 

There was no more performance. No more dance, no more Shamisen, no crowd, no children, none, because everything turned into a sudden commotion. When Prince Illumi realized what happened, it was too late for him to take his own arrow and release it to the rooftop. He was gone, that man in a black hood; and the Prince’s heart sank to his feet to see Hisoka lying unconsciously on the ground with an arrow pierced on his back. People were running in all directions, mothers were screaming their children’s name, food stalls were closed and the plaza was empty; and without prolonging anything, the Prince carried the injured man onto his horse, and together they ran for the palace before anyone could register what happened. 

********* 

Prince Killua quickened his pace along the marble tracks of the palace before he finally arrived in his brother’s chamber. Three men were inside: one was wounded, one was healing the wounded, and the last one was doing nothing but staring silently at the previous two. Prince Killua approached the last man and touched his shoulder slowly. 

“I heard,” he said. 

His brother told him everything. He looked calm and composed, but Prince Killua knew him too well that his brother’s rage was almost palpable, emanating through every pores of his features, and his eyes were fuming as he tried to repress the coiling blood under his skin. Prince Killua didn’t know whether his brother was mad with the fact that someone was clearly trying to kill him, or the fact that Hisoka got hurt for trying to protect him. Either way, the situation wasn’t any good because it could only mean that the Prince was in serious danger because even the culprit dared to launch his attack in a public place like that. How is he? His brother asked the Shaman. The latter explained that Hisoka would be alright, that he just needed to rest, drink a lot of water, and tried not to move around so much for a while. As the Shaman left the chamber, Hisoka gave Prince Killua his faintest smile; a way to honor and acknowledge his presence in the room. The chamber was quiet, but the air was too thick for three of them to ignore. 

“Who did this to you, Anniki?” 

Prince Illumi, with his burning eyes, looked at his brother and replied, “The very same person who tried to poison my Sogi and damage my horse saddle.” 

And therefore, Prince Milluki, the second son of King Silva of the Southern Land, was arrested three days after under the verdict of treachery and murder attempt.

*********


	3. The Wooden Box

The palace seemed slightly different than the first time he got here. It was quieter, more serene, more peaceful. Hisoka would walk along the Front Yard, to the Left Wing and to the Central Area, and he would also pay Helden a visit in the stable before he went to the garden and to the river. He would dip his feet into the cold water, and he would continue his little tour to the inner complex, all the way to the Right Wing and to the Prince’s chamber. 

During midnight refreshments, people had asked him how he could reveal Prince Milluki and his servant as the culprits. He would tell them, times and times, that before he took the Sogi which later killed the Cuckoos, he had walked past Shalnark, who had greeted him, and who also came precisely from the kitchen’s direction; and that apparently nobody was in the kitchen when he had gotten there. He would tell them that before the horse convoy, Shalnark was gone to the restroom, only to return minutes later with slight thatches sticking on his damp sandal, and thanks to Hisoka’s friendship with Seaquant, he knew that those thatches only existed in the horse stable. He would also tell them about the day where he had to borrow the undershirt, and he had seen the archery kit with a pattern carved on its edges, the same pattern with the one arrow that had pierced his back. 

He would tell them about how he, Prince Illumi and Prince Killua had planned to capture Prince Milluki by fishing him out to reveal himself. Two days before the capture, Prince Illumi had told everyone in the palace that he was going to the temple to pray, that he wanted to isolate himself and no one should follow him; therefore, Prince Milluki would voluntarily take the opportunity and kill his brother himself. How do you know that it will be Milluki who comes, and not Shalnark? Prince Killua had asked the other day before their mission began; and with that, Prince Illumi turned to his brother and said, When you want to create your utmost masterpiece, Killua, do you want it to be done in somebody else’s hand? 

And so that day, Prince Illumi climbed up the hill and reached for the temple; it was raining hard and his Kanjiri was soaking wet, but the cold wind didn’t stop him from standing in front of the temple and prayed; he prayed to the Southern Deities to protect them, to give them strength to run their plan, and he also prayed for his brother’s soul and for him to be forgiven. A thunder glared after the lightning, and Prince Milluki was standing there a few meters away behind the praying Prince; and it was right then that all guards came out of their hiding spots and arrested Prince Milluki to the dungeon, as well as Shalnark who was apparently in his ward when the capture happened. 

All the servants had to sigh and felt sorry for the misfortune that had befallen the royal family, and they would glance at the spot where Shalnark used to sit whenever they had drinks, and prayed together for him; but no matter how much they mourned, everybody still praised Hisoka for the bravery he did, and that he had saved the Kingdom from a despicable treason. “You truly are The Ace,” Ikalgo would pat him on his back, and they would go on and on about how clever and how remarkable Hisoka was, for he knew the palace more than he knew himself. 

But what he didn’t know, however, was the day when Gotoh had to accompany King Silva to visit Prince Milluki in the dungeon. The King was so furious, so sad, and so disappointed, the fact that his son was trying to murder his other son; the one that would one day be the heir, the one that would replace his throne and carry on the duty as King. Although Prince Milluki didn’t say anything, it should be clear for anyone who saw it, that in his eyes, there was an incurable scar that seemed to scream, Is that why you love him so much, Papa? Because Anniki is the future King? If so, do I have to enthrone myself so that you would open your eyes and look at me for once? 

King Silva would never hear those words, of course, but as he spat on his son’s face while saying, “You are a disgrace to the family,” it was right then and there that Prince Milluki’s rage exploded, like it had reached its limit after years and years of being degraded, years of misery and torment of being unloved and unwanted. “Disgrace?” Prince Milluki snickered helplessly before he looked at his father and said, “come to Anniki’s chamber at midnight, and I’d be more than glad to be called a Disgrace; even if you have to rip my flesh while doing so.” 

********* 

Compared to the olden days, there were fewer agendas in the palace now, which meant there was more free time for Hisoka and the Prince to spend together. They would hike up the hill, go to the lake and swim together, walk into the forest and feed the nightingales, the cuckoos, the canaries; they would stroll around the garden and pluck the colorful flowers, dip their feet in the cold water of the river, pick a marble stone and threw it as far as they could, or they would horse-ride and sit on the log the whole day doing nothing. At night, in the Prince’s chamber, Hisoka would braid the Prince’s hair, massaging his back and lull him to sleep, and they would talk for hours about everything, anything, that they could possibly talk about. They would reminisce about how they met in the warehouse two years ago; how Hisoka was concentrating on his fabric, about how the Prince came to him and asked to buy the Orchid Kanjiri, about how Hisoka was living as a crazy nomad after the Prince disappeared without a trace. They would talk about how the Prince was also looking for Hisoka this whole time, how he asked his guards to make a fake recruitment, just so Hisoka could apply and work in the palace. 

They would talk about the other olden days, during the first times Hisoka was officially employed as a servant, and how he was so overwhelmed, not by the work, but by the Prince’s presence. They would talk about how Hisoka could never look at the Prince, and how the Prince was sad because he thought Hisoka didn’t even remember him or didn’t want to see him. They would talk about the tale of the Grieving Orchid the Prince had made up, about how they dreamt of each other every night, how they prayed for each other's' soul, how they made love the first time in the tub, in Hisoka’s ward, or in the Prince’s chamber; and while doing so, they would, again and again, make love; like Deities of Amor, so transcendent, so passionate and so sacred, like they were living in their dreams without wanting to wake up. 

Seeing the Prince laughing and smiling made him thankful he was born into this world, but it was also the same reason that made his heart ache and slashed into pieces; because although his lungs were suffocating and his lips were paralyzed, he knew that he had to say it, no matter if he had to swallow his own tongue and perish. That night, they were in the Prince’s chamber, burning the scented Lavender together, and Hisoka suddenly stopped what he was doing as he slowly turned to look into the Prince’s eyes. 

“Illumi.” 

He never called the Prince by his name like that. He always called him with honorific, with respect and with humbleness; but at that precise moment, he didn’t want to let any wall bordering their core, didn’t want to let any boundary separating their soul, and so by the time the word rolled out of his mouth, he had to hold his breath because the Prince was also turning to him and bored into his eyes.

He missed those eyes. Eyes with a gaze colder than winter, deeper than the Southern Ocean, and darker than all midnights during Twilight; two pairs of eyes that made him willing to hand himself to the devil in Hell, even if he had to confess his sin everyday and repent. They were cracking now, those beautiful eyes, and Hisoka knew that the Prince knew they were entering a realm they had been forever avoiding. 

“Go marry the Princess of Nostrade,” Hisoka said, “live your life as King and forget I ever exist.” 

At this rate, Hisoka could no longer look at the Prince, the way someone couldn’t look at themselves in the mirror, and Hisoka wanted to tell him his reasons; but no, he never did, because before he could say anything else, the Prince slapped him hard across the face and he was staggered onto the floor. It stung, it stung so bad because they both knew it wasn’t true; but Hisoka pretended like his words didn’t taste bitter in his own tongue, so as the Prince kept slapping him, he just kneeled on the ground, accepting each slaps whole-heartedly. He wanted to speak more, but each smacks pushed him further away to the corner of the room and he wasn’t sure if his organs were still intact. It was his first time seeing the Prince so furious, so mad, and so sad; but all of this was because the Prince didn’t know about the conversation Hisoka had three days ago with the King. 

It was Gotoh who had come to his ward three days ago, telling that King Silva was summoning him and wished to speak to him. At first, everything had gone completely fine and normal. The King thanked Hisoka for his bravery, for his acuteness, that if it wasn’t because of him, Prince Illumi might still have been in danger. It was only after the King spoke his next sentence that swerved the whole ground upside down: I know what happened between you and my Son. 

Maybe it was his punishment. Maybe _this_ was their punishment. Hisoka should have known that Shalnark or Prince Milluki had been spying on the Prince’s chamber every once in a while, and if only they could be a little bit more careful, if Hisoka could be a little less stupid, he wouldn’t drag the Prince into the mess he was creating. Or maybe he should have never met the Prince in the first place, should have never fallen in love, and maybe it was better if the Prince was indeed a dream or just a flashing scene in his head that didn’t even exist. Maybe it was better if their encounter never happened. 

Of course the Prince didn’t know. Nobody had the heart to tell him, not even Hisoka or his father. The Prince would never know how King Silva, the Great King Silva of the Southern Land, broke down in front of Hisoka and wept. He is a blessing, that boy, my sweet little loving boy, the King had said in hopelessness; and Hisoka could swear that the way he cried was the equivalent of the whole Kukuroo Mountain shattering into bits of atom flakes. Hisoka would like to disregard the irony, yet there he was; kneeling before the utmost powerful, strongest man in the land who could be so fragile and helpless; for his one son was a criminal, and the other was a homosexual. The King had told him everything; his worries and his fear, his prayers and his hope; and it was at that precise moment Hisoka realized that his love for the Prince might never surpass the love of King Silva to his son. Hisoka also assumed that the only possible reason he wasn’t hanged in the gallows now was because he had saved the Prince’s life, and so as the King had stopped sobbing and calmed himself down, he could only look at Hisoka with pleading eyes and said, If you love my Son, Hisoka, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what to do of what’s best for him. 

And so here he was; in the Prince’s chamber, cornered on the ground, with each burning slaps abhorring his face and ripping his lungs apart. Of course the Prince wouldn’t listen to what he had to say; and now he just kept on attacking Hisoka blindly with his remaining energy, until he drew his blade from the drawer and pointed it right in front of Hisoka’s eye socket. The Prince was panting so furiously, exhausted of his own anger, and sorrow, and Hisoka was yet to move an inch. All of a sudden, the Prince was tranquil and calm. “How dare you to speak such nonsense to Your Majesty,” he said. 

Hisoka wasn’t surprised with the Prince’s unwavering denial. If Hisoka had the opportunity, truth be told, he would also like to play the game of pretend and deny himself; but although he felt like his entire body was crumbling, he tried to glue them all back together with a thought in mind that all of this should no longer hurt them more than it already did. And it was right then and there that Hisoka could muster his strength to glance up and lock his gaze with the Prince, drowning himself in those eyes; those cold, dark, and deep eyes he worshipped so much, and as he slowly rose from the floor, with the blade still pointed at his eye, he was now a little less wobbly and was already standing firm on his two feet. Although his cheeks were sore and his face was a mess, he was staring straight into the Prince’s eyes, defying his words and confronting his rigor, as if in that stare he was screaming, No, no Your Majesty, it isn't nonsense; I know what I’m saying, and I mean it. 

For a moment, the Prince was still, as if in his silence he was processing whether the view in front of him was real and not only in his mind. But then he chortled, like he was insulting Hisoka for being such a terrible actor, when he then put his blade down and said, “I don’t understand why you’re lying to yourself, Hisoka, because I know you will always need me in your life, the way I need you in mine. But if you’re so stubborn as to make me believe you don’t, then you’re free to leave. Leave me and don’t ever come back.”

********

**Epilogue**

Hisoka used to live as whatever he wanted. He was a lumberjack, a sailor, a gambler, a cleaner, a charcoal shipper, a gardener, a salt maker, a blacksmith, a busker, a florist, a dishwasher, and all other jobs you could find in Southern Kukuroo. And now he was a wood sculptor, living alone near the waterfall in the mountainside where he could swim after an exhausting day of sculpting furniture. Although the forest was a bit too quiet sometimes at night, it didn’t bother him because he had Hachi; a brown Labrador who made him a good company and kept him away from wild rats that liked to steal his tofu. 

Living alone near the waterfall made him doesn’t interact much with other human beings, unless they came to his cabin and ordered specific items of furniture. Which was why it was a bit late for him to hear the news that Prince Killua, third son of Silva Zoldyck, was enthroned as King, and that the coronation happened about two weeks ago. He was married to Princess Neon, daughter of Light Nostrade of the Northern Isle. Like every other coronations, Prince Killua had to undergo series of sacred ceremony; he earned the blessings from the Shaman and from his Zoldyck ancestors, and his head was showered by the holy water from Kukuroo Temple that turned his black hair into a luminous white; a symbol that someone was officially crowned as King. 

He, King Killua, paid Hisoka a sudden visit on one fine afternoon, when the latter was working on his chopped logs. “You look finer in that hairdo, my King,” was the first thing Hisoka said before he finally bowed down in the King’s presence. 

Hisoka showed the King around; the blossoming Sakura tree, the jasmine bush, the waterfall, and the cabin where he stayed—My Shoebox, he would say—and Hachi ran to the two men, all the while sniffing and jumping around their feet. He also showed the King his furniture works, and other stuff he had been making during his solitude. 

But still, no matter how much Hisoka prolonged his pep talks, he knew they were going to talk about it in the end. He made the King a glass of warm jasmine tea and offered him Dried Sakura, and although he felt like it wasn’t decent, the King still appreciated his hospitality. 

“Have you heard?” The King asked.

“I heard.” 

“What did they tell you?” 

“That your brother had a chronic disease.” 

Prince Illumi never had a chronic disease. The King told Hisoka that a few days after the latter left the palace, the Prince had a huge fight with his father and threatened to withdraw from the kingdom. Silva said he was being ridiculous, so he sent Prince Illumi to the Southern Temple, forcing him to confess all his sins and exiling him for months in the cave of Kukuroo Hill. On the last day of his isolation, he returned to the palace, apologized for his wrongdoings, and told Silva he would marry Princess Neon, enthrone himself as King and carry on his duty as the heir. But the wedding never happened, nor did the crowning. 

For a moment, both men just sat on the log in that small cabin, watching Hachi as he was biting on his twig. The King took out a wooden box wrapped with white fabric and handed it over to him. Hisoka knew he was well-prepared for this, and he had also promised himself not to let his regret take over; but as soon as he saw the ash and the Orchid Kanjiri inside the box, his whole world shattered. 

_I’d rather die than to know you leave me._

It was only reasonable for Hisoka to think that Prince’s death was his fault. If he hadn’t left, he thought, maybe the Prince was still plucking the orchid, still riding his horse, still painting on his canvas or still reading the literature. It was reasonable for Hisoka to think that it was an irony, the fact that he came into the Prince’s life to save him just to be the one who made him die. _Because I had left him_. Hisoka’s eyes were cracking waters and his bones were fracturing beneath his flesh, but before his tongue could say anything, he felt a tender, convincing touch on his back. 

“It wasn’t because of you that the Prince had died,” the King said, as if he was speaking right to his core, “it was rather the oppression of living untrue to his own identity that made him choose to die in order to live, for he was already dead when he was still alive.” 

The mountainside felt a little warmer that afternoon. Sakura trees were blooming here and there, as well as the jasmines and the roses. The waterfall was splashing hard onto the lake and onto the damp grass, and the woods were answering their calls from the wind and the cuckoos up the hill. The King thanked Hisoka for his time, for the jasmine tea and the Dried Sakura; and he patted Hachi on his head one last time before finally reaching the door to leave the cabin. How pitiful of a man Hisoka was, the King thought, for having to run away from his nightmare and hiding forever in his Shoebox; and while the King had a thousand different words of farewell on his head, he turned himself to Hisoka before leaving and said, “Illumi was never happy. He was never happy until he met you. So please, live your life; because therefore he will live in you.” 

——The end——

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here lies the ending of the story... 
> 
> This fic was actually born on October 2020. I wrote it for my dearest cousin @mikashisui (twitter) who encouraged me to write a HisoIllu Royalty AU fic (or to write about literally anything, for that matter), and the fic itself was inspired by a videoclip I randomly came across on Youtube. So yes, if it wasn’t because of the clip, and if it wasn’t for my cousin, this story wouldn’t even exist.
> 
> I also want to thank @mirbnada6 (twitter) who took the time to review my work and corrected my grammar mistakes... I still have a lot to learn.
> 
> Feedbacks are always appreciated, so please let me know what you genuinely think about it. 
> 
> I hope this story speaks to you all.
> 
> #LoveIsLove
> 
> (Feel free to reach me on Twitter: @Blue23Lace)


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